The beginning of the end

So, I'm nearing the close of my time as a personal trainer.
I have very mixed feelings about this.
As you know, I love being a trainer. I enjoy working with my clients, and helping them improve their lives. I've worked with some wonderful, amazing people over the last year, and am grateful to have had the opportunity to do so.
On the other hand, I've felt like a fraud. Not that I don't know how to train people, because I do. But many of the people who work with a trainer do so to help manage their weight.
And here I stand, 5'10" and 255 lbs of personal trainer. I know that I'm not what they have in mind when they decide to work with a trainer.
And so, in some respects, I feel a sense of relief. I'm going to try to find something that lets me feel more true to myself; and lets me continue my personal struggles with my physical limitations (and trying to accept them) in private. I'm tired of trying to explain to new and potential clients why I'm a good trainer, even though I'm fat.
I'll miss being a trainer when it's all over. It has been a positive experience, for the most part. I'm glad I did it.
I'm definitely looking forward to the next adventure, though.

Dancers Gotta Dance

Do any of you former dancers ever do any dancing now?
I do. I have to. I'd go crazy if I didn't.
I know some of the girls I took dance classes with as a kid did it because mom thought it was good for them; or they liked it for awhile, but then got bored with it. Not me.
The best part of my day was standing at the barre, doing plies and tendus and warming up before going across the floor. Standing in line waiting my turn to practice turns and jumps was the most exquisite torture.
When I hit puberty and my body crushed my ballet dreams by growing hips and breasts and shooting up a head taller than everybody else, I was devastated.
All I had ever wanted to do was dance. Ballet was my first true love. I fell head-over-heels at four years old, and never looked back.
Oh, I flirted with jazz and tap. They never had my heart though.
As a teen, no boy could have ever compared to the siren song of the dance studio.
An injury took me off pointe when I was 15. I cried for days. I never did it again.
But I still danced! When I went to college at 22 I danced four hours every day, wanting to become a choreographer. At 23, a high-risk pregnancy side-lined me again. I gained 100 pounds (you read that right!).
I was sick and depressed. Worst of all, I couldn't dance! In fact, it took me 5 or 6 YEARS before I did any kind of dancing again.
In my early 30's I tried to take a Modern class, supposedly for adults. I stood in a room full of 16 year olds knowing I would never be able to keep up.
But then I discovered something that changed everything for me.
Belly dancing.
That's right. As a fat, middle-aged mom, I took up belly dancing.
The music spoke to me, just like it had all those years ago in ballet class. I could do the steps. I fell in love all over again.
It's a good thing I did. I don't feel alive if I can't dance. It makes me a better mom, a better wife, and a better trainer.
Belly dancing isn't a cure-all, but as long as I can dance through my life, I can handle just about anything.

Being Happy

So, I haven't lost any weight. I have started lifting heavier, though. I love how it feels when I see the amounts I'm lifting go up.
My body is big, and it's strong.
The few health issues I have are completely unrelated to my weight or bodyfat percentage.
I've said for a long time that I want to look better when I turn 40 than I did when I turned 30. Well, I have two years, but I already look better. Not because I'm thinner - I'm not.
I look better because I've realized that no matter what I weigh, I deserve to take care of my body. I don't need to be thin to eat things I love, I don't need to be thin to smile when faced with a camera, and I certainly don't need to be thin to be happy.
So I'm going to continue working out hard, eating guacamole (and sometimes cake), and building a happy, healthy life for myself and my family!

Perspective helps

So, I'm trying to believe what I tell you all - Size is just a number. My worth is not measured by what the scale tells me. How I feel is more important than how I look.
Yeah, it's just as hard for me to assimilate as it is for you. But I'm working on it. Because it's all true.
I run, and work out, and eat healthy food. I work, and play with my kids at the park. My husband tells me that I'm beautiful and sexy - sometimes I even believe him!
So ok, I'm not a size 4, or 6, or even 8. I'm not my goal weight of 170 lbs. To be fair to myself, I have to say that at my goal I won't be any of those sizes, either. The smallest I get is about a 12. I'm ok with that.
And so that puts it in better perspective for me. That's 3 pant sizes from where I am now. And that's much less intimidating than thinking of it in pounds.

Now Hear This!

I'm really sick of all the hate talk lately. Specifically about weight. I find it appalling that people think it's just fine to be critical of anyone who is overweight. What business is it of yours? People think they're "helping" by telling people that they are fat, that they need to "stop being so lazy", and making comments like "Spandex is a privilege, not a right".

IT NEEDS TO STOP!!!!!!

Stop pretending that people need to be "shocked into taking better care of themselves". You don't know someone else's story, and even if you do - shaming someone is NOT the way to show you care. 

I'm disgusted every time I hear or read the hurtful things people say, behind the fiction that they're trying to improve peoples health.

I realize that it's not going to be a popular opinion for a trainer to have, but I'm jumping on the "body acceptance" bandwagon.

And by the way, next time I hear some jerk make a sick old woman feel bad because of her weight I'm going to punch them in the mouth.

I hate my body

I hate the fact that I hate my body.
I hate the softness. I hate the roundness of my belly. I hate the stretchmarks and scars from having babies.
That being said - my body is strong and healthy. It's tall and curvy. It allows me to play with my kids and dance and have sex. My body can walk for miles without getting tired, it can dance all night. It can run a group and then train an evenings worth of clients before going home and tossing the baby in the air.
My body is strong. It does so much. I wish I could just accept the "imperfections" as the physical signs of experience that they really are.

Being a trainer

The things I love about being a personal trainer are - helping people improve their health, watching them get stronger, assisting people in managing physical issues, knowing I'm part of making other people's lives better.

The things I hate about being a personal trainer - it's hard to make a living, I feel like I have to look a certain way, not being able to help certain clients because they won't follow their program.

Mostly I like being a trainer. Some days though, I wonder what in the world I was thinking.